Rosalind Hudis

Diorama

Bell-jar, crinoline, chicanery
glass where stuffed fox or hawk, a fleshy coral
display the pose
of the pause before they could swoop
bite,
swell —
now décor. We are directed
to the taxidermist’s drawer
his scalpel
blades
to scoop out an eye, his tongue-depressor.
A porn of cute, these jerkined rabbits
wired to their tea-cups, ape
the hour’s pleasantry
which will occur within borders, coiffured,
contorted, box-wood
boxed
into the spectre of a wild tree.
Blindness is an atmosphere:
inside this case
an eyeless goddess, veined
a mask
a weasel
her stiff-dried teats.
The shape of air between them
thrums with dust.